Mastering My Domain
Sometime before or during puberty, most of us figure out that touching our bits and pieces feels good.
According to what I’ve read and the anecdotal evidence I’ve gathered through various conversations with friends, most guys figure this out… sometime in the womb.
They then discover orgasms sometime before they become teenagers, then have a heart attack the first time they produce ejaculate – sperm, come, jizz, spooge, whatever you want to call it.
For women, which I most assuredly am, it is somewhat different. Okay, remarkably different.
I can only speak about my own experience, because it’s only my history I know authoritatively, but I was much older than the majority of my male friends when I first began masturbating – at least, successfully. Now that I am, how do you say, practiced? skilled? at it, I have willingly given it up. And all for a stupid bet.
Yes, a few friends of mine and I have gone Seinfeld — we are mastering our domains by denying ourselves orgasms. Why are we being so stupid (a question I’ve heard asked over and over the last few days)? For bragging rights at this point, since although we’ve all begun, none of us have really put forth our agreed on terms. At least, not yet.
But I’ve learned something from practicing restraint – at least, physical restraint – these last few days. This may not come as much of a shock to people, but the times I bring myself to orgasm aren’t always solely due to horniness. It seems to be a habit of sorts that I’ve fallen into: I’m horny, I’ll get myself off; I’m bored, I’ll get myself off; I have the house to myself now, I won’t later, I’ll get myself off; I don’t want to work on this paper, I’ll get myself off.
I can’t believe that I’m the only person that sometimes treats masturbating this same way. There are a number of people that regularly get off before they go to bed, and I highly recommend it as a sleep aid, but how much of that is due to habit, and how much of it is due to actual levels of horniness?
I fantasize constantly; I find it’s a great way to pass the time on the bus, while standing in line at the bank, while in the middle of a dentist appointment… it’s a fantastic way to fill time and come up with great ideas for the next time you’re naked and boogying with someone. But generally my fantasizing doesn’t lead to masturbating; usually it’s the other way around, unless I’ve been reading a particularly good romance novel… in which case we’re back to the fantasizing again.
How is all of this tying together? Well, if you take the physical release away from your body, especially if you’re used to getting that release, you find yourself fantasizing about everyone attractive you see… or at least, I do. School has become a lot more interesting lately, what with getting to guy watch on my way from one class to another, or from school to work. It’s made the walking from school to work a lot more fun, regardless of the dropping temperature.
Of course, fantasizing about everyone you see isn’t always a good thing. It’s certainly causing minor amounts of havoc with my brain and hormones and everything in between, but so far, it’s under control. See, I have this determination to win this bet, so I’m keeping myself together. Mind, I’m saying that after five days; talk to me again in two or three weeks, and you may get a different story entirely.
In the meantime, I’m working on developing new habits. I’m not giving up the fantasizing; I plan to have a few wild times once this whole bet is over and I’ve won. For now, I’m … umm… writing papers for school, going to work, and chatting with my friends. Except for those times we talk about sex, it’s helping to get my mind off the bet. The problem is, since I’m mostly talking to my friends who are in on the bet… there’s a lot of talk of sex. It’s a tough cycle.
So, if you’re wandering around downtown and you see a couple of handsome guys hanging out with a short blonde girl, and the whole lot of them are looking mighty twitchy, go easy on them. One of them just might be about to snap… but it’s not going to be me.